


Destiny's Beginings

by Uniasus



Series: Veritas [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Dragons, F/M, Merlin Memory Month, Pre-Season/Series 01, Royal Hunith, Royal Merlin, The Purge, War, gedref
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-16 09:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14162211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uniasus/pseuds/Uniasus
Summary: The sole survivor of Gedref's royal family, Hunith searches for safety with the aid of her maid, a dragonlord, and a handful of knights.MerlinMemoryMonth and standalone contribution to the series.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> March was Merlin Memory Month, a great event filled with fun prompts! I ended up linking mine all in the same story >.<
> 
> You can read my [original entries on Tumblr,](https://uniasus.tumblr.com/search/merlinmemorymonth) or just read this cleaned up version. I have it loosely set up as a prequel to [Veritas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6161794/chapters/14118514), hence it being in the series, but it can be read on its own.

Hunith pulled up her horse at the edge of the woods. The village beyond was small. Rustic. Undisturbed.

Easy to stick out in.

“Princess?” Lionors, Hunith’s maid riding behind her, asked. “We should be safe here.”

“We’re too different,” Hunith responded. “We’ll stand out.”

“It’s only for a night.”

Hunith bit her lip, still unsure.

“Here,” Lionors held out a small sack. “Hide your jewelry. We’ll dirty our clothes. And only half of us will go to the inn while the others camp.”

Frowning, Hunith looked around at her party. Herself. Lionors. One of Balinor’s men, Subbara, now dragonless. A senior member of Gedref’s council. Five knights in Gedref green.

Leaving half behind would help them hide, but the stress of fleeing and traveling sat on them all. And even if Hunith took off her cornet and slashed her fur vest, they couldn’t hide completely. Subbara looked too wild. The knight’s chainmail too obvious. Hunith’s own dress too fine.

“We’ll all go,” Hunith decided. “But yes, let’s make ourselves less obvious.”

She packed away her jewels and crown, let Lionors rub mud on her dress. The knights turned their tunics inside out or hid them in saddle bags.

Riding into the village, Hunith had to remind herself to keep her head low. She wasn’t Princess of Gedref anymore. Couldn’t be, now that Uther Pendragon had claimed it for his own. But she still sensed the eyes on her as the group rode into town. Felt keenly aware of the small things that might give them away: the quality of the horses they rode, Subbara’s inked arms, their brightly dyed clothes.

Everything that made them different made them a target. And that made her afraid.

 

* * *

“I don’t wish to eat downstairs,” Hunith declared later.

Lionors frowned. “I know it’s not Gedref’s hall, my lady, but –“

Hunith waved away her maid’s words, turning to the window of the room they shared at the inn. It overlooked the entrance and enabled her to watch people come and go from the inn. “I will stand out in such a crowd, Lionors. I’ve had enough of that for today.”

“My lady. Hunith.”

Hunith turned in surprise at Lionors’s use of her name. “You’re being forward.”

“Calling you by your title will draw attention.”

Sighing, Hunith nodded.

“You will always draw attention,” Lionors continued. “You were raised to rule and people know that. They will ask you questions, listen to you, gawk. You _are_ different. Kind. Smart. Supportive of magic. A foreigner.”

Lionors stepped closer with each word until she reached across the space between them to take Hunith’s hands in hers. “You stood out in Gedref, my lady. You will stand out here. And anywhere you go, fleeing Uther. But that does not mean you’re unsafe.”

Hunith desperately wanted to believe Lionors’s words, but she couldn’t.

“Come eat downstairs. They will look at you, yes, because you are new. They will look at me. At Subbara. At the knights, and Lord Eldric. But _nothing_ will come of it.”

“You can’t promise that,” Hunith said.

“No,” Lionors agreed. “Men are men. And someone is always looking for coin. But the risks are not as high as you think, and what would make a better tale for a future princess? Hiding scared in a room? Or pretending to be a merchant’s daughter and learning how the common folk live?”

Hunith pursed her lips, considering it.

From below, a roar came from the dining hall and Hunith could vaguely make out shouts of “Bard!” followed by gay laughter.

Eating downstairs would be a better night. And she’d be surrounded by protectors. Hadn’t she noticed how travel worn her party was just a few hours ago? The same applied to her, and the call of a bit of fun and relaxation had her giving in to Lionors.

“Okay. I’ll go downstairs.”

“Thank you, princess.” Lionors bowed.

“None of that now,” Hunith said as they left. “You were right before. Titles are inappropriate now.”

“You’ll never lose it entirely.  Not to me. Not to those we travel with.”

Hunith acknowledged the statement as fact, but already knew her status would shift and change. She didn’t have the men to take back Gedref. Didn’t have the allies. Magic had lost its last stronghold in the world, she had lost her country, and her people were scattered to nearby kingdoms. It would be better for the world to think Camelot had succeeded in killing Gedref’s royal family.  

But first, she had to find a safe place for herself and those traveling with her.

All concerns, of course, for tomorrow. Tonight, she would eat with remnants of her people and enjoy the tales of other countries. She could worry again tomorrow when they left.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uther tells Balinor about Ygraine's death.

Balinor had always been proud of the "lord" part of "Dragonlord". It was proof that he and his brethren were the superior magic users. A sentiment that Uther Pendragon shared.

Priestesses, they both believed, were the lesser magic users. And yes, most dragonlords couldn't summon fireballs. But why did they need to? They rode _dragons._ A priest or priestess could out magic a dragonlord any day of the week, but no one could survive a dragon's talon, a dragon's fire, a dragon's rage.

Plus, the Old Religion followers used magic _wrong._ They stole power. Their innate gifts weren’t enough for the greedy bastards.

The natural magic and lordship of dragonlords was why Uther Pendragon had worked with them during Camelot’s civil war after Constantine’s death. Balinor’s own skill and nobility resulted in Uther giving him command over the magical troops. And it was why, years later, Uther asked for a meeting a day after Ygraine went into labor.

"My wife is dead," Uther admitted and Balinor had to sit down with shock. He'd liked Ygraine. They'd spend hours in each other's company simply talking. Kilgharrah, ever the futurist, had kept hinting that Ygraine's son would surpass his father. Ygraine had delighted in the prospect of taking her future son on dragon flights.

"I'm sorry," Balinor said, sadness sinking into his bones. "Was the birth hard?"

"It wasn't the birth that killed her. She was murdered."

Balinor shot to his feet, battle ready. “And your son? Arthur?”

"He lives," Uther said. But there was no proud fatherly look on his features. Just cold rage hiding sorrow.

Balinor let out a breath of relief. He’d gone to war for Uther because Camelot’s throne had fallen to a 12-year-old girl. For Uther to be wifeless and heirless, Balinor might be called to defend the throne he helped win. He wasn’t ready for that so soon after peace.

Slowly, Balinor walked over to Uther and helped him sit in a chair. “Tell me everything, Uther. Ygraine was my friend, too. And if you need help taking care of Arthur, I will help. But first,” Balinor placed a hand on Uther’s shoulders, “You need to grieve in peace, my friend.”

Uther snarled, jumping to his feet and almost unbalancing Balinor. “That I cannot do while Ygraine’s murderess is still alive.”

“I’ll take care of it. Just tell me who.”

“You’re a good friend, Balinor. A worthy First Knight.”

Balinor huffed. “First Dragonlord” sounded better, but he’d never gotten Uther to use that title.

“You and Kilgharrah are the best in the land,” Uther continued. “I knew that years ago when I asked you to join my fight instead of the rulers of the Old Religion. I should have listened to you when you said not to bring them to Camelot.”

Balinor was about to snort, his typical righteous answer when the subject had come up previously, but he caught himself.

“Nimueh,” he whispered. “Nimueh killed Ygraine.”

Uther gave a regal nod.

Balinor turned, ready to hunt down the High Priestess, when Uther grabbed his wrist.

“Nimueh knows exactly what she has done,” Uther said. “She’s no longer in the castle, and while I sent guards to look for her immediately there is great chance she’s left Camelot already.”

Balinor grit his teeth. “Priestesses, the whole lot of them. What trash. Using the Earth, sneaking about, stealing power to disappear into the fog.”

“A stain upon humanity,” Uther agreed. “I should not have extended that hand of peace.”

Balinor shook his head. “You didn’t know. And your noble, bloody, heart meant you had to give them a chance.”

Uther gave him a small smile.

“Well, I’ve had enough of the entire Old Religion!” Balinor crossed his arms. “They preach balance but take from the Earth. Think they’re above other magic users. They’re weak, hiding behind flashy spells and stone castles.”

“You’re right, of course, dragonlord,” Uther said. He placed a calming hand on Balinor’s shoulder. “I should have expected she’d do something like this. Been more prepared.”

“Uther, no. You couldn’t have known Nimueh would do this.”

“But you never trusted her. I should have listened to your superior instincts. Dragonlords have the best, most natural magic.”

Balinor preened under the praise.  “I’ll gather my dragonlords. Scout any place Nimueh might be hiding, and bring you her head.”

“Thank you, my First Dragonlord.”

Balinor started at the title. The one he’d always wanted. Grinning, Balinor gave a deep bow to his king and swept out of the room to find his men.

Soon, Camelot would just be dragon territory.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The knights of Camelot catch up to Hunith's party.

They had fled Gedref without a plan, grabbing horses and riding away as soon as Balinor’s message had arrived. But it had reached Hunith’s hands not an hour before Camelot had attacked. The focus had been on _get out_ not _go to this place in specific._

Now that Hunith’s party felt they were safe enough to spend a day planning, they crowded into Hunith’s room at the inn.

“Rumors say that the entire royal family was killed,” Lord Eldric said. “And the entire council asked to denounce magic and Gedref or burn on the pyre.”

“We know that’s not true,” Hunith said. “I’m here, and you’re here, Lord Eldric. Certainly, somewhere, my family or other council members are hiding.”

Sir Cecil winced. One of Hunith’s knights, his magic gave him some talent for scrying. Hunith gave him a look demanding what he’d seen.

“I’ve scryed the castle a few times,” he admitted. “I’ve seen the burnings, and I can list some of their names for I didn’t see everyone they tied to the stake. But Uther…,” Sir Cecil trailed off, eyes flickering between Hunith and Lionors.

Lionors sniffed and Hunith raised her chin. “Don’t worry about our sensibilities, Sir Cecil.”

Nodding, Cecil went on. “He put the heads of your family on pikes outside the castle, princess. Your parents and your brothers.”

“My sisters?”

“Princess Mabilia is unaccounted for, but I know knights had been sent to help her flee. As for Princess Wladus, she left with her retinue for her husband’s home two days prior to Camelot’s attack. I scryed the route and saw evidence of a battle. I can’t tell you the outcome. I’m sorry, princess.”

Hunith pressed her lips together tightly. Bandits, or Uther’s men hunting down Gedref’s leaders. Either way, she worried for her eldest sister.

“Uther’s gone mad,” Subbara added. “It’s like the beginning of the Purge, all over again, expect it’s for the people of Gedref and not magic users.”

“Dragonlords too?” Hunith asked.

Subbara nodded. “Uther wants to eradicate anything magical. Sorcerers. Witches. Warlocks. Dragonlords. And anyone with any connection to Gedref, from its king to the forest forager. Anyone rumored to help us too.” He scratched the side of his head. “There are knights roaming, sometimes in red, sometimes colorless, looking for and attacking Gedref citizens.”

“We should leave later today,” Sir Cecil said. “Two nights in a bed would be nice, but we can’t take that chance, princess.”

“It’s early yet,” Lord Eldrich said. “If we figure out a destination and route now, we can leave this town today.”

“The destination is obvious,” Hunith said.

Everyone in the room turned to look at her.

“Carmarthen. Even if Wladus did not make it to her husband’s kingdom, he should house us. It is too late for him to support us against Camelot, but we have sent refugees south to Carmarthen before. We shall simply be eight more. And hopefully, my sister will welcome us.”

The men in the room nodded.

“I’ll gather supplies,” Sir Cecil said. “We’ll leave in a few hours.”

 

* * *

Sir Cecil burst into Hunith’s room, out of breath.

Hunith shrieked, clad only in a shift while Lionors combed her wet hair.

Sir Cecil blushed and stammered an apology.

“Do knock, Sir Cecil,” Hunith said.

“Any other time, I would, your highness.” He grabbed the bags on the bed, ensuring they were closed, and retied the bedrolls. “We have to go. Now. Three knights of Camelot were spotted on the road.”

Quickly, Lionors slipped Hunith’s dress over her head and started tying Hunith in. “Did some tell them we were here?”

“Most likely.” Sir Cecil stuck his head through the door, looking both ways before stepping out. “Someone went out to meet them on the edge of town.”

Hunith quickly put her hair into a tail, ignoring the tangles and dampness. They’d have to leave her bathtub in the room, still full and waiting for Lionors to use.

Sticking close to the knight, both women followed him down the stairs, through the inn’s kitchen, and into the stables. Half the horses were already saddled, Subbara and another knight quickly getting the other mounts tacked up and loaded with gear.

Sir Comwell skidded into the stable from the outside, breathing heavily.

“They’re looking for us,” he panted. “Knights in green and a fine lady. And it’s not just those three. Two more are in the woods at the other end of town.”

Sir Cecil frowned. “We’ll have to leave through the woods that border the village, avoid the roads.” He eyed the horses, as if considering leaving them.

“Or,” called out Lord Eldric as he joined them in the stable with the other two knights of Gedref, “we have him chase two knights and a lady.”

“I will gladly play the part of Princess Hunith to keep her safe,” Lionors curtsied in the hay.

“No, it’s too dangerous,” Hunith said.

“For Lionors, yes,” Lord Eldric agreed. “But I’m a decent warlock, Princess. I can disguise myself as you, ride my horse hard through the town, and draw out the knights of Camelot. We know where they are hiding. We can take them out one by one.”

Hunith opened her mouth, but Sir Cecil spoke up. “A brave, bold plan. I will join you, Lord Eldric.”

“As will I,” said another knight, Sir Blanc.

“It’s dangerous,” Hunith insisted again.

Sighing, Sir Cecil took her hands. “A knight’s job is always dangerous. But we live to serve Gedref, and that means serving you. You need to make it to Carmarthen, to your sister’s home. You’ll be safe and from there you can aid our scattered people. And we’ll be but a few hours behind you. Here.”

He pulled his green cloak around and ripped the end of it. He handed the fabric to Hunith. “It is hard for me to scry people. It’s easier to find an object I have a connection to. Keep it close. We’ll find you after.”

Tight-lipped, Hunith nodded. Lionors came over and turned the scrap of cloth into a headband for Hunith to wear. It made her feel common, but she supposed that was a good thing.

Sir Cecil nodded at the women, then turned to Lord Eldric. “Cast your spells.”

Three minutes later, Lord Eldric had grown out his hair and changed his clothes to a dress. Up close, he wouldn’t pass as a woman, but on a galloping horse he would. Lord Eldric also dulled the colors and hide the armor of Hunith’s party. A tricky spell, she knew, Lord Eldric could hold no more than two hours.

“Take care of her,” Sir Cecil instructed his remaining two knights, Sir Comwell and Sir Lore, and Subbarra. Then he, Sir Blanc, and Lord Eldric rode hard out of the inn’s stables.

There were shouts from the road on the other side. Hunith’s party waited five minutes and then took off at a fast walk to leave via the other side of town. No one stopped them.

* * *

Lord Eldric’s spell faded before the two hours were up. And the group did not find them that night, or the next day. Still, Hunith refused to believe they were dead and wore her make-shift scarf all the time. Her people would need it to find her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I grabbed the names of Hunith's family from here: [https://www.s-gabriel.org/names/tangwystyl/welsh13.html ](https://www.s-gabriel.org/names/tangwystyl/welsh13.html)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balinor leads an attack on the temples of the Old Religion.

Nimueh, like most Priest and Priestesses of the Old Religion, was good at covering her tracks.

The temples taught how to use magic that was outside of yourself, drawing it from nearby magic users or the Earth itself, which mean it was easy for her and her ilk to hide tracks. No personal magic to track.

The not being able to track them was a frustration, but the desecration of the balance? The taking of energy not yours. Using others’, using the land’s. That made Balinor and the other dragonlords puff up and rage and curse them for blasphemy.

It was why Balinor had no regrets about the plan he presented to Uther Pendragon.

“You wish to attack all the temples?” Uther stared at Balinor as if he’d gone mad.

“At the same time,” Balinor answered.

“Whatever for? Nimueh can’t be hiding in all of them.”

“I don’t know where she is.” In the three months Balinor had been looking for the Priestess since she murdered Ygraine, Balinor had no leads. Just the threads of rumors that broke as he touched them. “But if we destroy the temples, we can destroy all her hiding places. Rid the world of the Old Religion and let the natural magic of the Earth reign.”

“The magic of dragonlords,” Uther said.

“The Old Religion and its priests are abominations. They go against the natural order. We knew this before. It hasn’t changed.”

Uther hummed, still looking at the map spread on his table. “Do you really think you can do this?”

Balinor looked down at the sheet of paper. At the six circled marks, each a temple in Camelot or her neighbors. “I’ve already written to the five kingdoms. They’ll let us cross the borders.”

“And the manpower?”

Balinor grinned. “Are the knights of Camelot not the best in the realm? But your neighbors have agreed to lend us men. With the five kingdoms working together, and twenty dragons, we can burn all the temples to the ground.”

Uther straightened and clapped his hand on Balinor’s shoulder. “I always knew I made a wise choice, selecting you as First Dragonlord. Your plans will change the course of Camelot herself. And Camelot will change the world.”

Balinor smiled at his friend. “We will avenge Ygraine and give magic back to the earth. Kilgharrah has told me a few times how great Camelot will be. I’m glad I get to help build it.”

“Me too,” Uther said. “We’re making history. Songs will be sung about this battle. When will you be able to attack?”

“One month.”

 

* * *

 

Kilgharrah shifted on his legs and Balinor looked up to grin at him. “Eager for the fight?”

“No,” the dragon answered. “And yes. This battle is important, but not for the reasons I think you believe.”

Balinor tried to stare down his friend, but it was hard when Kilgharrah stood several dozens of feet taller. And had centuries of years on him.

“This dragon prophesy speaking?” Balinor asked.

In answer, Kilgharrah gave a rumble-hum in the back of his throat. “It is Albion I speak to, the earth and magic I am a creature of.”

He said no more and Balinor held himself back from pouting. Dragonlord he may be, but even with his ability to force Kilgharrah to answer the dragon would probably give a response that Balinor couldn’t understand. But that was okay. Nature was mysterious. You weren’t supposed to know all about it. And you weren’t supposed to disturb it.

Instead, Balinor looked around to check over the men. He’d taken command of the group to attack the Isle of the Blessed. Him and two other dragonlords, though there were four dragons ready for the cue to leap into the air. There were also twenty of Camelot’s knights and double that of the kingdom’s soldiers.

He looked up, then looked down at his shadow. He fingered a wooden ring on his right hand, charmed by a scryer in the groups attacking the other Old Religion strongholds. Once he started attacking the Isle, other groups would do the same.

Grinning, Balinor looked up at Kilgharrah. “Go melt stone.”

With a cry, four dragons lifted into the air and streamed towards the stronghold on the Isle. Balinor’s men charged forward, pushing boats into the water. And all around the Five Kingdoms, other strongholds of the Old Religions found themselves under attack by Camelot’s forces.

 

* * *

 

Balinor didn’t find it odd that the dragons did the most work. It’d been that way taking Camelot too, and no one wanted to get in the way of friendly dragon fire. But he did find it odd when the Priests and Priestess were dead and the men were given orders to collect the artifacts inside and identify bodies, that Camelot’s knights did not help.

In fact, they had lingered on the edge of battle the entire fight.

Balinor wasn’t the only one to notice.

“There’s something off with the knights,” Matti, another dragonlord, leaned in to whisper into Balinor’s ear. “I asked Paratirisi to watch them. Hey, didn’t we come with twenty?”

“Yes.”

Balinor turned towards the knights, clustered on the shore and milling around the boats. Absently, Balinor started counting them. One, two, three… twelve. Twelve knights doing nothing, while the other eight were securing magical artifacts?

A squeal rose from the other side of the lake, a dragon in pain.

Next to him, Matti dropped to a knee. “Paratirisi,” he croaked out.

Had they missed a Priest or Priestess? Had the scent of blood drawn other creatures towards the Isle?

Balinor turned to help Matti to his feet, just in time for one of the knights of Camelot to thrust a sword through Matti’s stomach. From across the water, Paratirisi screamed again.

Sir Galeholt grinned at Balinor. A knight Balinor had fought alongside for two years. A man Balinor had shared many drinks with, had met his wife and children.

“King Uther says there’s no place for _any_ magic in Camelot.”

Sir Galeholt pulled the sword out of Matti. Balinor brought his own weapon up to fend off the attack, all while shouting towards the sky.

“ _We've been betrayed! Flee! Flee to Gedref!”_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunith's group spends time in Ealdor.

They fled. But in an effort to lead the knights of Camelot astray Hunith’s party went further west. They’d turn south towards Carmarthen later. Essetir seemed relatively safe to travel through. It might have been Camelot’s neighbor, but in the middle of the country as the Gedref party walked through they didn’t have to worry about Camelot patrols.

The most recent intel put Uther Pendragon having his knights scour Gedref for all those who still lived within its border. Whole villages were burned, even without a local hedge witch or sorcerer among the population.

It made Hunith’s heart crack. She wanted to help, she _should_ help her people. But she didn’t know how.

Because while they didn’t have to worry about Camelot patrols, they were still being sought by knights errant.

Hunith and Lionors, in an attempt to ease the burden of the remaining men, started to take turns on watch. Two knights and a dragonlord needed sleep too, especially since they’d been living rough and harried the past two weeks. Or maybe three. Days riding and sleeping on the ground, Hunith found, started to blur after a while.

* * *

Dress dirty, hair limp, Hunith no longer looked like a princess. No doubt, it played a role in getting Lionors to drop noble addresses entirely, but the two knights still traveling with them still addressed her as ‘Princess Hunith’ or ‘my lady’. Subbara, to the horror of the knights, had settled on calling Hunith by fake titles. ‘Lady of the Horse’. ‘Lady of Stained Clothes’. ‘Daughter of the House of Birdnest Hair’

Hunith smiled at each one. Small smiles, but smiles. They needed someone to help keep their spirits up and Subbara did at least a passing job.

* * *

Halfway through Essiter, they were attacked by bandits. The knights and Subbara managed to fight them off, but they stole Lionors’s horse after pulling her down and with it their bag of medical supplies.

“Will he be alright?” Hunith twisted her hands as she watched Subbara and Sir Lore try to staunch the bleeding above Sir Comwell’s hip.

Subbara grimaced and started chanting again, eye flashing yellow as he used his magic to heal.

Lionors gripped Hunith’s arm as they watched. Subbara’s magic didn’t seem to be doing much.

Frantically, Hunith looked around. While she spent time as a child playing in the apothecary, she hadn't learned much. But surely there was something nearby. The sound of water drew her attention. She may not know herbs, but after being the princess of a kingdom who had been accepting refugees for years, she knew medical care.

"Lionors, help me," Hunith commanded. "Let's boil water to clean the wound."

Neither of the men noticed, too preoccupied with Sir Comwell. When the women returned with water, Subbara thanked them while Sir Lore sputtered about how Hunith shouldn't wander the woods alone.

She ignored them and help clean and wrap Sir Comwell's wound. He laid limp on the ground, breath heavy, and Hunith declared they were staying there for the night. It wasted almost a full day of travel, but Sir Comwell needed the rest and Hunith could use a day out of the saddle.

Overnight, Sir Comwell developed a fever. They pushed on, the knight tied to his horse, and Hunith cursed herself when they discovered they'd only been two hours from a small village. She could have gotten him to help sooner.

* * *

Ealdor was tiny. Poor. A farming community. No different than the other places the group had been through. Lacking an inn, an elderly woman had opened her house to them. Hunith and Lionors slept inside, Sir Lore and Subbara in the small yard in the back, and Sir Comwell at the herbalist's next door.

The herbalist predicted Sir Comwell would recover, and Hunith paid him for his services with a gem pried from one of her bracelets.

A week later, when they planned to continue heading west, the rain brought with it more than muddy roads.

It brought Balinor.

* * *

Hunith placed her roll of bread on Balinor’s plate. The dragonlord had lost most of his bulk and he was too immersed in telling his tale to notice Hunith giving up her food for him.

They all knew the meeting to discuss a treaty between Gedref, the dragonlords, and Camelot had gone wrong, but Balinor’s details caused more than a few tears to leak out and fists to pound the table.  Hunith’s second eldest brother slain in Camelot’s throne room. Gaius, who had trained in Gedref, on his second year in magic suppressing cuffs. Kilgharrah in chains, in exchange for Balinor’s life.

It was how Balinor described the city that really broke Hunith’s heart. She had been to Camelot a few times as a girl, and during their courtship Balinor had spoken highly of the city. The happy people, the open magic. When Balinor had arrived, all the shops and homes had been shuttered. Fear had sapped life from everyone.

Uther, no one’s surprise, had turned around on his promise to Kilgharrah and tried to burn Balinor. Gaius had smuggled him, like so many others since the purge began, into Gedref. Hunith begged Balinor to not share the current state of her home. She wanted to remember Teach Crann as the place of strength it had been.

Between spoonfuls of thin soup, Balinor filled in the group's knowledge. The bodies of Hunith's sisters had been found. Wladys never made it to Carmarthen. Uther's Purge continued to have people flee from Camelot, and with nowhere to go they streamed into neighboring kingdoms. Kingdoms who now branded themselves the Five Kingdoms due to an alliance centered around Camelot's shared disapproval of magic. People fled to Gedref, but no one there was left.

To the northeast, Nemeth was Camelot’s ally. The small bit of cost Gedref held was full of smoldering ships and King Rodor’s fleet. South and east were the only options – the Perilous Lands or Essiter.

"But Uther is chasing them through Essiter," Balinor shook his head. "His knights are constantly crossing the border, pushing south from Camelot and west from Gedref."

"Carmarthen will help us," Hunith whispered. "They have a treaty with Gedref."

Sir Lore snorted. "They barely helped the two years Camelot attacked us."

"They're not a neighbor," Hunith shot back. "It takes time to move troops and supplies. They'd have to march through one or two other kingdoms-"

"Doesn't matter anyway."

Everyone looked at Lionors.

"You were already talking when I came back from the market, but the town is talking about Carmarthen." Lionors twisted her hands together. "There are rumors it's taken more people than it can handle. King George is thinking about closing the borders."

"Even if he does, surely he'll take us," Hunith insisted.

"Maybe," Sir Comwell said. "The only one he's met is you, my lady. And that was when you were still a child. We'd have to provide proof you are Gedref royalty."

Hunith frowned. The only distinctive jewelry she had brought with her had been her cornet. And it had been stolen along with Lionors's horse when Sir Comwell had been injured.

"We have to try," Hunith insisted.

* * *

They delayed their departure two days, enough time for Balinor to rest and experience a few good meals. Two days ended up being too long.

"War! War!" A young page rode a sweating horse into town, "War! All able-bodied men are to report to the crown. King Ceolwald has declared war on Camelot!"

The townsfolk of Ealdor milled around the horse and boy, asking questions. But he didn't know much else.

"About time Ceolwald protested Uther pushing into Essetir," Balinor spat.

"Gedref had dragons and magic and lost," Subbara said. "Essetir will fall too."

"And then what of magic?" Hunith asked. "Where will the people go? What of those born in the future with the power in their veins?"

The dragonlords and knights looked at her. "Do you wish to fight with Essetir?" Sir Lore asked.

Hunith bit her lip. "I want peace. For me. For my kin. For those who have nowhere safe. Our options are small. But Essetir has not cast us out yet."

"Carmarthen may still let us in," Lionors said.

"Yes," Hunith said, "but I fear their support is limited." So many had been hurt. Killed. So many more would be.

"You can't save everyone, dear." Balinor pressed a kissed to the side of her head.

She knew that. But she wanted to anyway.

"Our options are limited," Sir Lore said. "Travel to Carmarthen and risk being turned away. Fight with Essetir and most likely lose. Hide and hope people leave us alone."

"Hide where?" Lionors said. "Camelot is expanding, searching for Balinor and hints of Hunith. If Hunith is discovered, Ceolwald might use her as a bargaining chip. Balinor too."

"Just the two of us can go south," Hunith said, "You all can do as you wish."

Balinor shook his head. "Uther cannot get both of us. We’ll split up. I will offer my services to Ceolwald. You have been safe here for two weeks. Ealdor is a good place to hide."

"I'll not-"

"I'll go with you." Subbara's words drowned out Hunith's protests. "If there is any chance of victory, I'm fighting."

"I wish the same," Sir Lore said. "I may not have magic like a dragonlord, but I have survived against Camelot's men. I can train and lead Essetir."

Sir Comwell placed a hand on his side. "I'm not well enough to fight. I'll stay. Watch over Princess Hunith and Lionors."

"You can't make this decision for me!" Hunith slammed a hand on the table. "I am the ruler of Gedref and -"

Lionors's hand on her arm stopped her. "You might have been born a princess," she said, "but Gedref is scattered and you have already told us to not use your title. You left it. You're different now. And being a princess will not help those who need it."

"Fleeing and hiding helps no one too!"

"No," Lionors agreed. "But you helped those injured in battle in Gedref. You can do the same here. You helped smuggle people out of Camelot and Gedref, you can do that here too. As regular Hunith. I'll help."

Hunith stared at her maid, her friend. And then slowly nodded. "I'll bring a bit of peace to those who need it in this world. I'll see if the herbalist will teach me."

* * *

When the men left the next morning, Sir Lore gave Lionors and Hunith scarves from his Gedref cloak. "To help me or one of my companions scry you."

Subbara did the same, gifting Hunith, Lionors, and Sir Comwell each a string of leather cut from the bottom of his clothes. On hers, Hunith hung Balinor's talisman. It was a roughly carved wood ring, but worth much more than Hunith's favorite gold one she had given him in return.

She and Lionors held each other as they watch the three men leave. Hunith felt cold and sad when they disappeared from sight.

"Come," Sir Comwell said. Though here in Ealdor he had dropped the Sir just as Hunith had dropped her own title. "We have preparations."

Mutely, the women followed him into the house they'd been staying in. The old woman who owned it looked up when they entered.

"Are you three staying through the war then?"

Hunith nodded. "We will happily continue to work for your hospitality."

The woman nodded. "We'll all be working for our lives, soon. The men are leaving, women will have to keep the town going."

"We'll do it," Hunith said. "Ealdor will be as peaceful as we can make it."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The much-awaited first meeting.

There was a reason Balinor told his men to flee to Gedref. A very good reason, considering they had to cross half of Camelot to get there.

Gedref was the home of magic.

Unicorns roamed the woods, griffins pranced through fields. A third of the population had a spark of talent, the earth itself sang with magic.

Magic ran through the rivers and sap of the trees, the Triple Goddess smiled on the land as did a few other gods. Druids made permanent camps. Dragons came to roost. And the Old Religion’s formal followers didn’t have a temple here. Mainly because there had been no place to adequately build one. Instead, there was a temple just over the border in Nemeth.

Like the other temple attacks, it had gone well until Camelot and her partners flipped their swords around.

Balinor had never visited Gedref before, but he’d heard the tales. As a child, he thought it a wondrous place. And as he flew through the kingdom to the capital on Kilgharrah’s back he knew the stories didn’t do it justice.

Teach Crann, the main city in Gedref, was so integrated with the forest around it Balinor missed it. Kilgharrah had pointed out the shine of light and glass through the leaves. The dragon landed in a clearing three miles from the city and touching down they both felt the brush of magic.

Balinor crouched to run his fingers over the grass, felt a sense of the Earth, of Albion, in each blade. This was how magic was supposed to be. Earthy. Natural. Belonging to each thing and only that thing.

Behind him, Kilgharrah rumbled pleasantly. “I missed this place.”

“You’ve been here before?” Balinor asked.

“A long time ago Gedref was bigger. Many dragons my age were born within its borders, though it has shrunk in the past few centuries.”

“What makes the magic so saturated?” Balinor asked, still touching grass tips.

“A few things,” the dragon answered. “One is that here, the people do not pray to the gods and goddesses. Or rather, they see them as secondary. They call out to the land first.”

“And the land answers,” Balinor whispered.

“The second reason,” Kilgarrah continued, “is the family who rules. You know the tales of Logath?”

Balinor wrinkled his forehead. “The sorcerer-king? Who tried to use his connection to the land to improve his kingdom, only to have it go wrong?”

“The very same. I believe it’s called the Perilous Lands, now. The king sits there still, but his family left him. They fled here, and Gedref is ruled by those whose blood is richly tied to Albion.”

“They’ll help us fight against Uther, right?”

Kilgharrah shook his head. “In one way, yes, but not battles you are imagining. The wheel is turning, Destiny is coming to pass. Both for Uther. And for you.”

“For me? What could Destiny want from me?”

“To meet her.” The dragon waved a wing to his left, just as a young woman on a white mare walked through the woods, her maid and a knight riding beside her.

“Princess Hunith,” Kilgharrah said, bowing his head.

Balinor started, he’d never see Kilgharrah _bow_. Hastily, he did the same, eyes on the ground.

“Welcome to Gedref, great dragon,” Princess Hunith said. “And who is this?”

“This is Balinor, my dragonlord.”

At his name, Balinor looked up and caught the princess’s eye. A sigh went through his mind as the warm touch of magic made his skin prickle.

“I’m Balinor, former First Dragonlord of Camelot. I come to ask asylum for my men and dragons.”

The princess stared hard at him. “You’ll want to speak to my father then. Come.”

She turned her mount around and Balinor quickly jogged forward to walk along her side. He already knew he’d followed her anywhere.

Balinor ignored Kilgharrah chuckling in his mind.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war of Essetir and Camelot starts to effect Ealdor.

News from the front came daily and it was never good.

Essetir kept losing ground to Camelot, giving up land and villages to knights in red. Ealdor’s crops were taken for the war effort, as well as its herbalist.

Hunith did her best to take up the herbalist post. Moved into his house. Read his books. Gathered the herbs she could.

She didn’t worry about Essetir’s knights dragging her to the front lines because no one would do that to a pregnant woman.

“You should be resting, not working,” Comwell said as he walked into the one-room home, baskets of herbs hanging from his right arm.

Hunith sent him a glare from where she sat with a young girl, wrapping her bloodied and blistered hands. With the men gone, they had pulled everyone they could into the field, even girls as young as seven. Her hands would be harshly callused before she was ten and the thought made Hunith’s stomach clench.

“I’m not doing anything strenuous,” Hunith told her old knight. “And have you seen Myddeth? She’s in the field harvesting what she can and she’s due in two weeks.”

Hunith finished wrapping the girl’s hand, patted the bandages, and sent her out the door. Only then did she give Comwell the glare she’d been wanting to.

“You can’t let our history judge what I can’t and can’t do. Yes, princesses do nothing but sit and eat while pregnant. But I’m not one anymore.”

Comwell sighed, already starting on tying up the bundles of herbs so they could dry. “I will always worry about you, Hunith.”

“I appreciate that, Comwell, but it’s not needed. Lionors fusses too. And I like the work, it makes me feel less separate from the village.”

Because it’d been obvious when they all arrived that Hunith and her party weren’t pheasants. Chainmail and horses, fine cloth and smooth hands. They’d managed to keep the secret that Hunith was Gedref’s sole remaining royalty from all except the woman they’d stayed with, but she had kept the secret. Instead, Ealdor believed Hunith the daughter of a rich Gedref merchant who’d managed to escape Uther’s slaughter.

The town had slowly opened up to the three of them. Hunith’s new role as healer and Comwell’s status as Ealdor’s sole man under fifty helped greatly. Lionors’s own sewing skills had been less well received, but an extra set of hands was an extra set of hands.

Comwell _hmmmed_ , finishing up the hanging. “Have you heard from Balinor?”

Hunith paused in cleaning up her work area. As soon as she realized she was carrying, she’d tried to send a message. It’d been months and she hadn’t heard from him. Or Subbara. Or Sir Lore.

She told herself it was because the letter got lost. The Essetir messenger she sent it with killed. Hunith refused to think of other reasons.

“No,” she told Comwell. “I have not heard from him.”

* * *

War came closer and closer to Ealdor and the conversation in town turned to thoughts of leaving. Ealdor used to be near the middle of the country, now it was but a half day’s ride from Camelot’s southern border.

Essetir was losing, and soon they would all be in danger.

“How well can you ride?” Lionors asked, bringing Hunith a cup of water.

“On what horse? The king claimed ours for the war.”

“We could buy Simmons’s.”

“No.” Hunith shot her former maid a disappointed look. “He needs that horse. All of Ealdor needs that horse.”

Lionors sighed. “The war is almost here, and you know what rumors say the Camelot knights are doing. Burning towns. Murdering those who try to stop it. Ealdor isn’t safe anymore.”

“It’d be hard to find a place that is,” Hunith answered.

She should know. With Uther’s attention towards the war with Essetir, those with magic still left in Camelot had snuck out of the kingdom. As a princess, she had directed magical refugees to Carmarthen, Essetir, Rhys. As a herbalist knowing Carmarthen had closed its borders, all she’d been able to do was patch up their wounds, give them a place to sleep, and mention towns looking for able bodies. If you could work, most places didn’t care where you came from.

As always, she told them to hide their magic. Essetir might have accepted it, but opinion was shifting. Despite having magic on their side, the kingdom was losing. Magic’s trickery nature, of course. Uther, the rumors said, might have had the right idea.

“I lost Gedref,” Hunith quietly admitted. “Ealdor is just starting to feel like my second home. I don’t want to lose it too.”

“And your child?” Lionors asked. “It’ll have a better chance of living away from the fighting.”

“Not if I give birth while we’re on the road. We have a small store of things here and a forest to forage from if we need to. There’s no guarantee of that if we move.” Hunith turned her gaze on Lionors, drawing on her old regal energy. “We’re staying.”

Lionors curtseyed and walked out of the hut.

* * *

Hunith woke in the night to the sound of someone breaking into her house.

“Who’s there?” she called out.

In answer, a small glowing orb of white light lit the room. The light hovered over the palm of a brunette haired woman, her fine dress in tatters and lips so red Hunith was sure they were bleeding.

“Did you need help finding a safe place?” Hunith asked. Grunting, she turned to swing her legs off the bed.

“No,” the woman said.

Hunith paused. She stared at the woman and the woman stared back.

“I wanted to see you,” the woman said, “Not because I need your help, but because you have helped my kind and I wanted to thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome.”

Something about the woman unnerved Hunith. She radiated power at a level unlike anyone Hunith had felt in over a year.

“But now that I’m here, something else has caught my attention.” The woman walked closer to Hunith, eyes flickering to her belly.

Alarmed, Hunith crossed her arms over the baby.

The sorceress laughed. “I will not harm him. I cannot harm him. That is not his destiny.”

Frowning, Hunith looked down at her belly. “I’ll have a son.”

“Oh, yes.” The woman sat down on the bed next to Hunith. She reached to touch Hunith’s pregnant belly but paused until Hunith gave her a nod. Her hand on Hunith’s belly felt warm and tingly.

“Your son,” the woman continued, “is destiny-touched. More than you, more than any I have seen Albion claim.”

Hunith sucked in a deep breath. She didn't want a destiny-touched son. She wanted him to have a peaceful life.

"Your husband's destiny," the woman went on, "Was wrapped in doom. He helped bring all this to past. But your son, oh he glows. He will lift us all up. And for that, I'll help."

The sorceress stood and Hunith wrapped her arms around her belly. She wanted to hug her son and shield him from the woman standing two feet away.

“The tide of the war will switch. Essetir will win.” The woman sounded so sure. “And your son will be able to start the life he was meant for."

Then she was gone.

Hunith found herself unable to go back to sleep.

* * *

Three days later, Lionors burst into the herbalist’s hut, chest heaving. “Hunith!”

“I’m fine,” Hunith said from her chair by the hearth.

“Are you sure?” Lionors came in and started checking Hunith’s vitals. “Surely you felt that. The drain. Even if you’re okay, the baby?”

Hunith grabbed Lionors’s hand and placed it on the left side of her extended belly. “Feel.” From within, her son kicked.

Lionors sagged in relief. “When I felt someone pulling power from the earth, I was so worried. If they’re not careful, they can pull new life too.”

Hunith hummed. She hadn’t told her former maid or knight about the midnight visit from the sorceress. She hadn’t wanted to worry her friends. Now though, she suspected the woman had been Nimueh. A High Priestess, highly trained and invested in Hunith’s son being born healthy.

“I’m fine. And, and Merlin is too.”

“Merlin?” Lionors looked up from Hunith’s belly to Hunith’s face. “You have a name?”

“I’m very certain he will be a son.” Hunith smiled.

“And why Merlin?”

“The birds have always been a symbol of prestige and authority, have they not? Belonging only to nobility. I, I can’t name him after my brother or father. It would be too obvious. But I can name him after the creatures that brought us all together and feature in my happy memories.”

Lionors sniffed. “It’s a fine name.”

With a soft smile, Hunith patted the side of Lionors’s cheek. “Now, go back to the fields. I’m sure there’s work for you.”

Lionors shook her head. “Large portions of our young crops have died, fuel for the spell cast not an hour ago. The harvest this year was already going to be small, but now it will be worse.”

* * *

A week later, while Hunith screamed with labor pains, news came to Ealdor. The war was over; a mysterious woman with great magical powers having sided with Essetir. No one knew her name, though Nimueh was whispered in the rumors, and she had disappeared after Camelot had agreed to terms.

Camelot kept it’s won land, having stolen almost half of Essetir’s. But it was required to share half of its harvest for the next year with the now smaller kingdom – a stipulation all assumed the sorceress would enforce.

What Hunith, Comwell, and Lionors waited for, the arrival of their friends, never came.

After the first three months of Merlin’s life, nursing him while looking out the window, Hunith gave up looking.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about flashing back again, to the romance between Balinor and Hunith, but honestly guys. I suck at romance. So we're ending on this sorta sad note. Because everything I write is sad. 
> 
> Come check me out on [ Tumblr](uniasus.tumblr.com) where I sometimes post about this series, but always have something Merlin on my dash.


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